Of Youth
by FeistyFeist
Summary: Even six months later, he still hates it and what it holds.  One-Shot


Just a ficlet.

OoO

Darry passes that damned thing daily. On the way to work and then home again. He cruises down Main Street, five miles over the speed limit, but he always slows, always lets his foot off the gas when he turns the corner. His hands tighten around the steering wheel in white-knuckled anger. Even six months later, he still hates it and what it holds.

He drives by and he looks.

Just looks.

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He looks at his brother too. The youngest one who stays in his room more than usual and talks less and less. Darry supposes he's thinking, daydreaming, like he always does. Darry hopes that's all it is.

Darry tries to make conversation but it comes out awkward and overbearing. Ponyboy retreats to books and silence. Darry curses inwardly, wondering why he can never have a normal talk with his youngest brother without reverting to parent-speak.

Soda tells Darry to give Ponyboy a break. Give them all a break. They've been through enough. The hospital. The trial. The funerals. The return to normalcy, if there is such a thing. Even Two-Bit's stopped cracking jokes.

"He'll talk when he's ready, Dar," Soda advises and Darry marvels at when he's gotten so smart. But then again, Soda's always been smart. No one's ever given him enough credit.

So Darry lays off. Lets Ponyboy be. Eventually, Ponyboy emerges. It's slight but it's there. He starts bickering with Steve. His grades pull up. He and Two-Bit go to the drive-in and Darry breathes easier.

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Darry tries to get over his hang-up but the ball of anger is still there. The one little reminder of everything is there every day. Darry doesn't hate much but he hates this. Wishes for a bundle of TNT to blast it high, a truckload of cement to hole it in. Soda would understand if he told him but Darry holds his tongue. _He's_ the one who fixes things. And just when Darry thinks he's having issues he begins to notice something in Ponyboy too.

The kid is fascinated with water.

Darry will catch him doing the dishes – but not really doing them. Just standing at the kitchen sink, hands immersed in bubbles and water, just staring at the shimmery liquid. The hot water lasts longer now that Ponyboy's showers are about five minutes. Darry casually mentions something to Soda and Soda smiles, nods, says, "Isn't it great?"

He wants to ask Ponyboy about the water. But Darry thinks he knows the reason. It's the same reason Darry hates his daily drive.

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The dreams at night stick around. Frustrating mazes only Darry can work through in his sleep. He sees the thing he hates, looming large and towering, situated in a center of green grass. Darry sweats in his sleep, tossing and turning. And when he wakes, he's deflated because it's still there. Just outside the front door and down Main Street. He could take another route but it already holds too much power over him anyway.

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He's always _this_ close to asking his brother about that night. He knows the gist of what really went down but Darry wants to dissect it. Feel the anger. "What, are you crazy?" Soda asks him and Darry stares back, wondering if he is.

Soda shakes his head. "I can't do it, Darry. I can't handle the details of that night. I mean, I already know enough as it is…" Soda's voice gets low and his hands ball into fists. "I'd put a hole through the wall. I'd wanna kill someone." He laughs, angry, bitter. "And you know as well as I do he's already dead."

Darry sticks his hands in his pockets and agrees with Sodapop.

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Darry's solution comes in the form of a newspaper. He reads the article in one quick glance: Too many kids, too many copycats. A distraction for the community, a site for morbid gawkers. The city's tearing it down to replace it with a rose garden. Draining it next week.

Darry shows the story to Soda. Soda looks worried. "Where's Ponyboy?"

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He's in the park, stepping into the fountain that Darry hates. Soaking his tennis shoes and the legs of his jeans. Darry watches all this from his truck. Watches Ponyboy sit on the edge of the fountain, leaving his legs immersed in the water, back towards the park. Finally, he cuts the engine and walks across the dark stretch of grass.

"What d'you think you're doing, Ponyboy?" Darry stops at the edge of the concrete circle holding the fountain. The source of his anger. The thing that could have taken his brother's life.

"Sitting."

"I can see that. C'mon, kiddo, get out of there. It's cold."

Pony's head swivels to look at him, green eyes dim. "They're gonna rip it down, Dar."

"I know that. Now c'mere." When his brother doesn't move, Darry sighs. "Ponyboy…"

"Johnny killed Bob right here." Ponyboy's soft voice erupts in the dark night. "The bloodstain's on the cement."

Darry wonders how many times Ponyboy's been here without him or Soda knowing about it. He looks down, to his right and sure enough, there's a small brown stain at the edge of the fountain. It unsettles him. "You got to get over this, Ponyboy," Darry says, ignoring the tightness in his chest. "It's rough, but coming out here and dwelling ain't gonna make it better."

Ponyboy raises a hand to wipe his face. "Don't tell me what's rough. You weren't here. You don't know." He starts to slump forward.

In three quick strides, Darry reaches him and spins Ponyboy around so his feet are touching dry land. If Darry didn't know any better, he'd have sworn Ponyboy wanted to pitch head first into the murky water of the fountain.

He sits next to him on the fountain's edge, turning his brother's body towards him and gripping his bony shoulders. Darry shakes him. "You want to know what's rough. _This_ is rough," Darry says as Pony's brow furrows. "Being here with you. Next to this. Do you understand that? Do you even get it?"

A question forms on Pony's lips before it drops away. Ponyboy gives the wobbly water a quick glance and his eyes widen.

"Ponyboy, driving past this every damn day and thinking what if—what I would've done if—"

Unable to finish, Darry releases his brother. Ponyboy sags back. "Oh…" He drops a hand in the water. "Darry…" Swirls it limply with his fingertips. His face thoughtful and sad. Trance-like Darry watches Ponyboy makes random designs in the cold water. He doesn't hurry him and finally, Ponyboy says, "I think I'm ready to go."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Darry wraps a hand around the back of his brother's neck. Squeezes. They stand and walk halfway across the park when Ponyboy pauses to take one last look behind him; one last glance at the fountain. Darry doesn't look. Just stares at his brother's young face and then the anger is gone.

Just like that.

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_Thank you for reading._

_XO,_

_Feisty_


End file.
